Author: Triane
Disclaimer: Not. Mine. Except Iona. Everything else belongs to someone else.
Summary: Arthur hears a few reports, and gives a few orders.
"How is she?"
Arthur's low voice was filled with compassion as he looked down at Dagonet, seated beside Iona as she lay in their bed. It had been a week since they had found Iona, a week since Dagonet had walked out of the Saxon tent holding his wife, her broken body shrouded in his big cape. The other knights had clustered around them, hardly daring to breathe as the large knight walked stoically towards his horse, relinquishing the woman to Tristan only briefly so he could mount his horse, and then immediately taking her in his arms again. Tristan and Lancelot had gone with them, riding slowly, carefully, back to the fort, while Arthur and the remaining knights stayed behind to burn the Saxon bodies and their camp.
And now she lay huddled on her side to protect the whip marks on her back, the bruises on her face mottled a disgusting green and yellow. She breathed shallowly, as if afraid to draw a true breath, her small body even smaller than usual under the covers. Arthur could see the brokenness in Dagonet's eyes as he looked down on his wife, clearing his throat to answer his commander.
"Her body is healing well. She has no broken bones, so once her bruises and cuts are healed, she will be fine." Arthur caught the implied meaning in Dagonet's words and clenched his fist in anger. She is not pregnant by that Saxon scum, then. The larger man sighed.
"But her mind...that is not something I can heal with potions and salves and stitches. That is up to her. Her nightmares..." Arthur nodded, knowing that he wasn't the only one to have heard the heart-wrenching screams coming from Iona & Dagonet's room for the past several nights. He rested his hand on Dagonet's shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze.
"She is a strong woman, Dagonet. She will pull through." Dagonet nodded as well, clenching his jaw as if he were fighting back tears.
"She has said nothing, Arthur. Nothing since I got her out. Not in Latin, anyway...she was muttering in English, the same thing over and over again. I think it is a prayer or something. She was saying...Comforter, where, where is your comforting? Mary, mother of us, where is your relief? Creep, Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all life death does end and each day dies with sleep."
There was silence in the room as Dagonet's voice died, and Arthur breathed a prayer for his two knights, not knowing what else to do. He said nothing when Dagonet looked up at him, anguish in his face. Arthur simply let him see the empathy and pain in his own green eyes, and Dagonet nodded slightly, swallowing hard and looking down to where his hand was resting gently on Iona's fragile one. Arthur spoke softly.
"Why don't you go and stretch your legs and get something to eat, Dagonet? I can stay here with Iona. It would do you good to move around." Dagonet looked as if he was going to argue for a moment, then nodded slightly. He stood stiffly and stretched his back, feeling his joints crack and pop from his long stillness. He bent over Iona, whispering in her ear, then kissed her cheek softly. With one last look down at his wife, he walked silently to the door, turning back at the threshold.
"If anything..." Arthur nodded.
"I'll send for you immediately." Dagonet nodded as well, then disappeared into the hallway. Arthur settled into the chair he had just vacated, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. There was a long moment of silence as he watched Iona's face for any movement, then he sighed and looked down at his hands again. The air in the room was still around its two inhabitants, and the summer sun brought a hazy light through the window. Arthur sat for several minutes, praying for the woman lying on the bed next to him. Praying for her health, for her mind, and for her new husband. Praying for all his knights, as his mind drifted to the missive he had received from Rome that morning. Bishop Germanius... the man who had been one of his father's confidantes and allies was about to embark on the long journey west, carrying the precious documents that would give his knights what they had most desired for the last fifteen years. He knew that many of his men tried not to think about what they were going to do afterwards, while dreaming of it at the same time - their life was too uncertain to cement anything that may slip through their fingers. He knew that most, if not all of them, would be travelling with him as far as Rome before striking out further east towards their homeland.
Three more months. Three months, and no more uncertainty. Merciful Lord, if I can only bring my men through the next three months, they will be rewarded with the freedom they have deserved all along. And I will return to Rome to a life of peace, with no Woads or Saxons.
"They were a scouting party." Iona's voice was gravelly from lack of use, but her brown eyes were clear when Arthur's gaze snapped up to meet them.
"Iona!" She cleared her throat and winced slightly, shaking her head when Arthur moved to stand.
"Arthur." The Roman paused for a moment, weighing his promise to Dagonet against the look in Iona's eyes. He slowly sat back down again, a thousand questions on his lips. Iona cleared her throat again, and Arthur took a cup of water from the nightstand to hold it to her lips, supporting her head with his other hand. She drank slowly, awkwardly, then rested her head on the pillow again with a sigh.
"Their king wants to expand his territory. They were to get the lay of the land...and wait for instructions when the king is ready. Not long." Arthur nodded, his gaze calculating.
"Why in the south?" Iona shrugged gingerly.
"Ambitious king. Wants the whole island." Arthur nodded again, already starting to plan for imminent attacks from the Saxons, his earlier thoughts of peace flown from his mind. He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes flitting over Iona's bruised face and battered body. Finally he nodded slightly, as if making up his mind.
"Titus, the fort recorder, is very old." He met Iona's gaze briefly, then continued.
"We will need a new recorder soon. I would like you to take the job." He saw Iona's jaw clench slightly, and looked back down at his hands, rushing on.
"You are not under oath to Rome, like the men...you can leave the cavalry with no punishment. Rome doesn't even know you exist. No one would think any less of you, either. You would be safe, Iona. You would never have to fight again." He looked up and was not surprised to see anger in Iona's eyes. Her voice was low.
"I am not weak, Artorius. And I am not broken. I am not unable nor unwilling to continue fighting for you. You will never suggest such a thing again." The commander nodded and smiled slightly, having known that she would respond that way, but wanting to offer it to her anyways. Iona was silent for a long moment.
"You're wrong, anyway. The Saxons and Woads will never stop coming. Someday, maybe sooner than later, maybe even with this attempt by the Saxons, the fort itself will be under attack, and everyone in it will be forced to fight or flee. You know that it is true." Arthur nodded gravely, his heart heavy with the weight of leadership. Iona's voice lightened somewhat.
"Besides. That will keep me safe for a few months, but what then? We won't be staying here. At any rate, the fort recorder is a position for a young man. I think Holger, the blacksmith's son, would be a good choice. He can read and write and cipher very well. And he is not the oldest boy, so his father is not looking at him to continue the trade." Arthur smiled at her, standing with one fluid movement.
"Thank you, Iona. I'll go get Dagonet now. He's been waiting for you to wake." For a split second he saw something flash across Iona's face, and looked at her in alarm.
"You don't...want me to?" Iona's eyes slid shut and she sighed.
"I can get myself through anything, Arthur. I have had more practice at it than anyone should. But I do not know how to get Dagonet through it." Arthur frowned down at her.
"I had not thought you were so selfish. Dagonet's heart is wrapped up in you, Iona. You put up a wall between the two of you, and you will destroy him." Iona's eyes flew open again at his blunt comment, and Arthur could see tears gathering. She shook her head.
"I do not want to put a wall between us, Arthur. I need him, desperately. He has been such a rock for me...even when I wasn't awake, I somehow knew he was next to me. And that thought brought me strength. But we depend on each other. And I cannot heal myself and be there for him, at the same time. Not yet."
Arthur pursed his lips at her.
"I understand that you had been alone for years before you and Dagonet found each other. Maybe not physically, but still alone in your marriage. You have had too much practice at depending on yourself. Now you don't have to, Iona...and you will find that even just acknowledging Dagonet's presence in the room - rather than pretending to sleep all the time - will do wonders for the both of you." Iona had the good grace to blush, and Arthur's gaze softened.
"The thing that we have all realized in the past few years, Iona, is that you and Dagonet are best together. Don't go back to the way you were before. You are a strong woman, but you're stronger with your husband. If you continue, you may drive a wedge between the two of you without meaning to. And now, especially now, you need to be united." Iona nodded, knowing he was right, and feeling tears prick behind her eyes as she thought about how Dagonet must be feeling.
"Arthur..." The Roman waited, his eyes kind as he looked down at his knight. Iona's lips trembled.
"Go find my husband?" Arthur gathered his cape in a great, sweeping bow.
"As you wish, Lady."
Iona was muttering snippets from a poem called "No worse, there is none" by Gerard Manley Hopkins.